A Call to Death

The smile to his eyes--

In his smile, the fright forfeits,

In his eyes, it ages well,

And when he laughs, his wrinkled cheeks,

Lift his eyes in sweet dispel.

The eyes to his face--

The battles lost, he has forgone,

But lose he did, he did disgrace,

And when he laughs, his gaiety eyes,

Gleam forth from amid his face.

The face to his tears--

He holds his grief inside of him,

His face quells the fears he bore,

And when he cries, he sees that face,

Trapped within the tears he stores.

The tears to his smile--

He sits within the pool of tears,

And smiles for all that has become,

And when he cries, he laughs, he cries,

He laughs, he cries, and then succumbs.

Colocalization

The green dot shimmered inside the cell,

Encapsulated in its own little organelle.

Fading across barriers, swallowing the plasm,

Apposing the membrane, chasm by chasm.

It looked so beautiful in its proud stance,

Alone but espoused in endosomal romance.

It advanced in my cell, acidified and blown,

Collecting membrane for what it called home.

But despite its amorosity with fellow inmates,

It stayed true to its discrediting, lysosomal fate.

Whilst the lysosome stood still, waiting by bay,

Unmoved like the devil, athirst for prey.

It provoked my endosome by a sojourn so mellow.

That my gullible green flashed into a yellow.

There! It fused unto the red!

And I see more colors--

But now it’s dead.

Permanence

The leaves shall fall and crackle beneath thy feet,
But the wood that begets shall stay mighty strong,
Even when the snow cripples unto the heat,
The branches shall wave and whisk, "So long!"

Inspired by this wonderful poem by Aman Khanna:
https://www.facebook.com/notes/aman-khanna/memories-from-change/10150897588896570

Step-down reaction

I am me, and then there is my shadow.

Following me, grazing the ground I once walked on,

And perpendicular to it am I,

Not me anymore, I am the shadow of my shadow,

Buried inside that ground my shadow grazed.

I am me, and then there is my shadow, and then there is the shadow of my shadow.

I step down on the staircase of my own shades.

Death by Violin

He played his violin with the passion of a fanatic,

Cutting through the strings with a swipe of the bow,

The agony and pleasure resounded on his face,

As his fingers shivered on the edge of the row.

I cried, I shed tears at the music,

I could feel their saltiness at the tip of my tongue,

I could see his music eclipse my body,

I could sense its quelling grasp on my lung.

Every lick he played on its neck was on mine,

Every wisp on my ear was a play on its tone

It was music I heard, for I so loved him,

When the bow was his sword,

And its neck,

My own.

Decadence

She saw his greatness in everything that surrounded him and her, which basically meant that she saw his greatness in everything. She wanted him, but she was also scared of the all-consuming nature of her respect for him. How could she want, and hence hope to achieve, the very thing she knew was her unreachable ideal?

She thought of this day after day. Her all-consuming respect for him slowly transitioned inward, delipidating her like a flesh-eating bacteria, sucking her existence into the void of her, or rather his being. It drove her mad. She stopped eating, drinking, sleeping.

She loved him so much that she wore herself off.

Rather, she loved him so much that she wore her love off.

And then he died, but she had already been too dead to notice.

Unfinished

The softness of the velvet peeked unto my fingers and I knew that I loved that feeling.

I knew I would spend days caressing its flesh and inhaling its warmth.

I knew I would brush my toes against the bottom and tease myself into loving it even more.

I knew I would strip naked so that every curve of my body pranced in its fiber.

I knew I would bury my face in its folds and cry my worries out,

Only to know that it will absorb my tears and shower me with its softness.

But alas, I did not know that one day, it would rain,

And you would walk into my life.